Are you happy?
Of course you are. We all are.
We have everything.
We deserve it for being born.
Entertainment isn’t a luxury any more, in our beautiful world of glass and plastic.
Everyone is golden.
We are born to be stars, all of us.
We will be famous.
Famous.
Rich? That’s not the half of it. We’ll be swimming in it.
There are no half measures for us, this is how we operate.
We’ll do movies. Or maybe I’ll be a rockstar, or a famous author.
Or, I’ll be a doctor; I’ll save lives, you know?
Lives. Imagine.
And you’ll be a lawyer, and put criminals in jail.
And you? You’ll be an environmentalist, you’ll save the forests.
We’ll all save the fucking world.

Everyone will know us, they’ll all want to be us.
And we won’t let it go to our heads, no, we’re not stupid.
We’ll stay away from drugs, and stay clean; and we’ll never be diseased, hey, get the fuck away from my glass.
What was I saying?
Yeah.
And then, then we will be happy.

And our many loves will all be perfect, perfectly chiseled works of art.
And they'll all last forever, our epic loves, forever until the next.
That’s how it works, haven’t you seen it on TV?
Everything will be perfect, and music will play.
It will be beautiful. So beautiful.

So let’s all jump onto the big pleasure yacht.
(Its white, but you can also have it painted a very fetching hot pink.)
You don’t need to sell your soul; you only need a little money.
And you deserve it.
You deserve to be happy.
You are happy.
And all the other people you’ll see there aren’t people, no.
They’re just props.
They’re all extras in the movie of your life.
Because you are special.

This is the dream.
Your parents will buy you the luxury of indulging in the twin sophistries of self doubt and over analysis.
Because if you aren’t happy, there’s something wrong with you.

So what have we learned today?
We are born into grace, our generation.
Nothing will ever be as good as right now.
(I’ll just turn the music up on my i-pod, the sound of this news report from Somalia made me miss my favorite part of this song. And who the fuck was Nero?)

We are the children of a perfect world.
We’re so thoughtful. We worry about who we are, and finding ourselves.
We’re so clever.

Aren’t you happy yet?
Of course you are. You just don’t know it.
Man.
Oh man.
You’re so happy, you’re fucking delirious.